


there are times we live for somebody else

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daylighter Raphael Santiago, FIx It, Grief/Mourning, I'm not sorry, I'm not very kind to her in this, M/M, POV Raphael, Post-Canon, Raphael Santiago Has Feelings, Simon Lewis Lives at Hotel Dumort, simon has guilt about the ones they lost, tumblr inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Post-Institute massacre via Valentine, Simon has guilt. He blames himself for the death of clan members he'd known and cared for.Raphael hatches a plan that he hopes will lift his spirits.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mono-chrome-me (sonicwaffles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicwaffles/gifts).



> inspired by mono-chrome-me (tumblr) - I couldn't not write this

 

* * *

 

The aftermath is a shroud of grief with a heaviness that sticks to DuMort's walls.

It fills up lungs and frozen hearts. Mourning is a clan leader opening the doors to a fledgling he once wished death upon. When eternity is in your veins, you grip those you love until your fingers ache, you do not let go. Mourning is being forced to let go. It's the glow of candles and a hard swallow. It's closing the door on vacant rooms with personal effects still inside. 

Among the lost were:

Evelyn, 84 (turned at age 22)

Joel, 55 (turned at age 34)

Arthur, 62 (turned at age 29)

And a host of others. Downworlders had perished and the shadowhunters did not blink an eye. Raphael and a handful of their family had to clean up the mess of what was once a very loved person while the other's comforted one another over the drama. No one had been hit as hard as the downworld. Even Simon had felt the shock; the shared grief through a weakened link with the clan. 

He'd walked through DuMort's doors and straight into Raphael's arms without a word. They'd latched onto one another as only grieving ex's can - with cracked hearts, bruising fingers, faces buried in one another's necks - fangs retracted. Everyone had made themselves scarce at once. 

(Everyone knew how close the couple had been  _before)_

-

 

It's been two weeks. The excitement has simmered down but the pain has yet to release DuMort's inhabitants. Simon Lewis especially. It had taken near death, sunshine and grief to make him let go of his stubborn pride. In the gaping hole it left behind, guilt took hold. He blamed himself for the deaths. If he hadn't released Camille, they wouldn't have been there. The catastrophic chain of events would not have taken place.

Neither then, would sunshine. Or learning where his priorities lie, where his heart lives. To learn, we must first make mistakes. We must fall from grace and refuse to stay down. Simon is stubborn if not smarter than he looks. He's trying. His healing begins with the heart he once shattered: Raphael Santiago.

The love he never recovered from. 

The mending begins as so:

 

**6:32 in the morning**

**Hotel DuMort**

Simon stares at the ceiling from the center of his bed. His thoughts are a jumbled mess of grief, guilt, loneliness, replaying every word he never should've said. It's a dark place that he's painted himself in. He has his mother back (cautious visits with Raphael at his side) and surprisingly welcoming faces with sharp teeth that he has grown to love since being turned. He has the same luxurious bed he rarely occupied prior to the betrayal.

Still has soft midnight black eyes that follow him when he leaves a room. 

But Raphael continues to sleep alone and there are empty spaces where bodies once were. Nothing will ever be the way it was - not without minor changes that did not exist prior. 

 

The leader walks in without knocking (this remains) and nudges Simon over with his hip. It's not unusual for him to lounge about in the fledgling's room or to splay on his bed like he belongs there. It's the pleased grin on his face that worries Simon.

"What did you do?" He asks, eyes following a groove in the ceiling.

"Why do you always assume the worst of me, Simon?" 

"Because," the younger vampire starts, turning his head to the side. "You're smiling and it's weird and it creeps me out." 

(He adores the many less-rare smiles Raphael shows lately. The creepy one included)

Raphael frowns, folding his hands on his chest. "I can't be happy?" 

(Simon knows that tone. He's up to something)

"You killed someone," Simon deadpans. "Is it anyone I know?" 

The clan leader hums thoughtfully, pretending to pick through names of those closest to Simon. They share the same dark sense of humor and sarcastic wit which makes his bluffing transparent but Simon is speaking. That's worth it. 

"Why would I tell  _you,"_ he teases.

He's more guarded post Camille, yes, but in many ways he's more open. Everyone fell apart after the betrayal - Raphael especially. They've all got their crosses to bear. Having Simon around helps mend his own embarrassment and guilt. However, it's not working for the younger vampire. For the boy he loves but does not kiss. 

The idea is to make Simon feel alive again and stop beating himself up. Everyone in DuMort has struggled with guilt, especially now, but they cope. Simon isn't skilled in that department. When he's not following around the other's with endless streams of babbling (in hopes of making nice) he's curled up in his room alone. 

Raphael misses him more than daylight, more than most. 

"So it's  _everyone_ I know," Simon shoots back. The corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. 

"I followed Clarissa," Raphael confesses, grinning darkly. More than once as it were. She isn't without blemish or blame in the tragedy and hardly checks in with a best friend she claims to care about. The minute she'd found out Wayland wasn't her biological brother, she'd dropped Simon. Granted she'd let him down with a goodbye kiss and a teary hug but that doesn't makeup for her behavior. 

(Simon had made it clear he came home because he missed his clan, his family,  _Raphael._ Not because of this. He no longer mentions her)

Simon flips over on his side, confused. "You mean like you followed  _me?_ " 

He does not always shine the brightest. Sometimes he misses the obvious such as why Raphael was following him in the first place. It had nothing to do with Camille and everything to do with keeping him safe. Loving him. He wrongly assumed it was because of the kill order (that lasted less than a day) and the urgent need to locate his sire. 

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Not like  _that._ I wanted to scare her." 

(He and Simon once shared a bed, kissed as the sun rose in the sky behind blackened windows, shared clothes, shared mannerisms, shared a love. He is working on taking back what he'd deemed lost in the first week after the betrayal - the loss)

Simon scratches his head, pondering. "Why though?"

The elder vampire ignores the question. "She brought out her seraph blade. Angels," he scoffs. "Always underestimating downworlders." 

They lie in silence for a moment before the fledgling laughs out loud. A tiny sound that warms every cold part of Raphael from the inside out. He misses it, misses holding Simon in his arms. 

"Did she scream? I bet she screamed," Simon giggles. Outright  _giggles_ like a child. A hint of fang shows when he smiles and the elder vampire can't help but join in. 

"Squeaked is the word I'd use," he laughs. He feels light, buoyant. Boldly, he inches closer.

Simon gravitates toward him - always has. He sighs happily, smile slowly fading. Their shoulders press side by side, he smells the shampoo Raphael still uses, the undertone of a scent all his own. He aches. "Thanks," he says. 

"My pleasure."

They lie together, stretched out on Simon's plush full size bed, for well over an hour. After awhile, Raphael, assuming the other had dozed off, began to sat up. One leg made it over the side when a cool hand loosely latched onto his wrist. Warm brown eyes pleaded with him to stay, stay, stay.

"Okay," he answered. 

Simon made a small pleased sound, his hand coming down to tangle in Raphael's. I need you, I need you, the gesture said. Raphael brought their joined hands to his lips where he tenderly kissed Simon's knuckles. 

He falls asleep with a cold nose against his neck and an armful of a Simon that twitches in his sleep and curls around him like a koala. 

* * *

 

 

Raphael's fangs drop. He hisses menacingly and purposely shuffles a bush near Clarissa Fray. She jumps, followed by an angry stomp.

"I'm armed," she announces loudly.

As though vampires do not, in fact, have sensitive hearing. 

He races behind a building, slowing enough that she notes a blur in her peripheral vision.

"That's  _it._ I'm calling Simon and he'll tell Raphael," she threatens.

He barely manages to choke back a laugh. When he'd left DuMort, Simon himself had made him promise to record her reaction. They're petty and Simon is peeved at his best friend for having dropped him like he was nothing. Angrier still to realize she'd put him in danger every step of the way, on purpose. 

She hits a button on her phone and holds it to her ear, scanning the area as she did. One hand gripped a sheathed blade.

"Pick  _up,_ Simon, God."

Raphael laughs out loud, dark and menacing. She nearly drops her phone and he manages to record every minute of it. God bless Androids and a helpful app called Twilight for dimming the screen. 

"STOP IT," she screeches. 

Having accomplished his mission, he heads home. 

* * *

 

 

Simon shoves a glass of AB+ in Raphael's hand and pushes himself onto a tall chair in the eating area. It's been eight days since they'd woke together; having wrapped around the other in sleep. The day after, he'd informed Simon that he wasn't allowed to complain about having to share his (Raphael's) bed from then on out. 

They live in Raphael's chambers, have many early morning sleep laced talks before passing out, a clan that has made room for Simon in their lives, the occasional facetime call with Elaine. They talk about the ones they lost, share happier memories of them, Raphael mentions his brothers and the grief and guilt begins to lessen. 

"Show me," Simon says, goofy grin on his face.

Raphael takes a sip of his drink before arching a brow. "It's graphic," he teases. 

Simon's eyes sparkle. God, he's beautiful. He's a dark flower coming into bloom - not a bad seed per say but he's owning who he is. He's no longer living in Clarissa's shadow, he's  _happy._

Raphael steps between his splayed legs, powers up the phone, adjusts the lighting and hits play. On the screen an irate Clary stomps and goes on. Simon absolutely loses it when she mentions Raphael taking down an unseen vampire. His shoulders shake in amusement at her plight. 

The video ends but Raphael doesn't move. They're used to cuddling, snuggling, whatever word mundanes use - yes. But there's a constant tension between them that needs only a spark. 

 

 

"You got her good," Simon chuckles nervously. His eyes drop to parted lips, instinctively he licks his own. 

 

 

"Are you with me?" Raphael asks, voice dropping to a whisper.

(Are we doing this?)

The younger vampire nods, taking Raphael's phone from his hand and placing it on the table. 

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah."

He reaches out and grips Raphael's hips, drawing him further into the V of his legs. Every night. Every night he'd missed this - even as Clary lay pressed against him in a cramped canoe. Even as he smiled against her lips and swung her around in the sunshine. They fit together like a universe imploding upon itself, bending and folding. Not right, not right,  _not._

But this.

"Say my name," Raphael whispers, longing coloring his words. His palms slide up Simon's legs, he waits.

(Say it so I'll know it's real. Mine, not hers) 

"Raphael," Simon moans. "Raphael, please." 

A spark-

The clan leader leans forward and barely - barely brushes their lips together. There is something on his mind that cannot be ignored. He has to tell him, needs to. Their noses brush and Simon's one second away from a protest-

Raphael whispers the words against his lips, easing him into it. "I love you."

It isn't the first time he's said it by far. No, that had taken place shortly after Simon chose DuMort and three different worlds formed an alliance. He'd been the one to initiate the kiss, pinning Raphael to the wall during endurance training. It'd been hot and lead to a very steamy makeout session but the softer more loving parts were his favorite. Raphael is a romantic by nature even before being turned. 

He has not said the words since Simon left hand and heart injured on DuMort's cold hard floor. 

Simon presses his lips to Raphael's, hands trembling as they slide up to cup his cheeks. "I do too," he murmurs. "Love you, I mean. I love you." He kisses each cheek, the tip of Raphael's nose, his forehead. "I love you," he repeats, verging into a broken laugh/sob.

Raphael takes him by the hand, ignoring the nosy vampires who smirk and grin at them as they pass hand in hand. Stan even goes so far as to wink at Simon as though he knew they'd make it back to this place again, all along. 

This time, they do not sleep.

 

* * *

Grief takes and it gives back.

With time, they will heal.

With time, the clan will mend.

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's not that I'm stomping on a female character. it's that clary fray has always put her own needs before simon's and expects him to be there at her beck and call. I don't care for her. 
> 
> I do, however, love maureen and maia <3


End file.
